


warm-blooded

by Tib



Series: my heart burns there too [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, archive warnings is such because of references to non-con thoughts, be careful tho, but this only lasts for a brief moment, canon typical language, quick story while ya'll wait for me to update lmao, scene from my story "my heart burns there too"
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 20:14:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21124574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tib/pseuds/Tib
Summary: Moments in my story "my heart burns there too" from Sandor's perspective. Potential for spoilers if you've yet to read MHBTT.





	warm-blooded

**Author's Note:**

> Archive warning is rape/non-con, due to a throw away observation Sandor makes. Please proceed with caution and be aware of your own limitations!  
I wrote this real quick so ya'll would have something to enjoy while I finally get around to working on Chapter 5. Sorry for the wait too! I have no excuse lol. I may keep writing certain scenes from Sandor's perspective and post them here, but that's yet to be determine. Also, I wrote this in like 30 minutes, so please feel free to point out any mistakes!

He had overheard several men of the Kingsguard mention her. They talked about taking her, lifting her skirts, and fucking her until she cried. (Whether they wanted her to cry for more or to stop, he wasn’t sure, but he knew the men wouldn’t mind either way.) He didn’t have those same feelings. He’s never been driven by sex like other men, never craved it as severely as they do.

But something changed in Sandor when he first spoke with her.

He had spotted her moving through the castle, dress flying behind her as she took long, quick strides. He was going to grab some ale while the prince attended his studies when he saw her, but something called to him, and he changed course to follow behind her.

She sat and basked in the sun, and he watched her for a moment. He thought she was a strange little bird, secretive. He had caught her sneaking out of the gates before they left Winterfell. His first thought was that she was running away, but she returned in time to ride for King’s Landing.

_Where did you run off to, girl?_ he wanted to ask.

But now, as he stands in front of her, he warns, “Your enchantment with this place won’t last long, little bastard.”

She knows how to be a sneaky bitch, that much was obvious, but none of the Starks (bastard or no) truly know how to navigate the pile of shit that is King’s Landing. The conniving cunts, liars, and thieves of all of Westeros call it home. The Starks don’t belong here.

He isn’t sure what he had expected from her. When her eyes open to find him, he could see the fear and hatred on her face. He thought she’d cower, whisper-quiet platitudes to him to make him go away.

“I see you’ve got some spare time. Are there no innocent children to slaughter?”

He has to fight the shock from showing on his face, but it soon fades away to amusement. He smirks at the bastard’s sneering face, enjoying the way her cheeks redden. She has more Stark in her than her red-headed half-sister, and he likes that. She bares her teeth at him, and all he could see is a snarling wolf.

He wants to tell her this, call her _pup_ just see her squirm with anger.

As she stood, Sandor’s eyes drink her in. So small, so tiny next to him. He catches sight of skin exposed with a low-cut neckline, flushed by the sun. He watches as her chest rises and falls with her agitated breaths. Swallowing the tightness in his throat, the sharp hunger, he doesn’t bother stopping himself from following the curves of her body, where the dress clings to her skin.

Sudden images, unwanted and unwelcome, come to mind, so he forces his gaze to the horizon. “Lord Stark sent for you and your sister,” he lies smoothly. He would not tell her the truth: the strange, urging curiosity that sends him chasing after her. The same curiosity that let his imagination drift to dangerous territory.

It left him staggering, the need for her that envelopes him, seemingly out of nowhere. Never once has Sandor been so pulled to someone so quickly.

It pisses him off.

“And why is it you’re the one telling me this?”

He keeps his eyes away from her face, trying to find a dismissive excuse. He doesn’t want to see her red face and plump lips curling in anger, for he fears where his thoughts my drift if he allows himself the “pleasure” of looking upon her.

“The prince insisted he escort his betrothed. He sent me to find you while he did so.” It’s simple enough to be believed he hopes.

She seems more annoyed than before, and for a moment, Sandor is worried he’s been caught in his lie.

But instead, she huffs out an oddly tactful “thank you” and moves past him. He turns to watch her leave, surprised, letting himself indulge in a few more glances. 

When he’s over the initial shock, he ignores how good it had sounded to hear her voice softened and chuckles to himself.

That girl will never survive in the Red Keep.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr @tibic  
I update info on my story there!


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